Her Name is Alice
by alicemorganss
Summary: Luther BBC x The Blacklist crossover, of sorts. Raymond Reddington owes Alice Morgan his life. With Fitch's threat still in mind and having to leave Lizzie alone with Tom, Red needs an ally he can trust to get him information for his revenge and protection for Lizzie when he cannot be there. (Red/Lizzie, Alice/John) Post-Anslo Garrick AU.
1. Chapter 1

When I first wrote this fic in my head, it was not this long. Suddenly it got a life of its own and started writing itself. I'm not sure I'm actually done with it or if I have more in me. I certainly have more ideas for this crossover if you guys do enjoy it. I have this huge head canon with Red and Alice that I'd like to play out. I'm currently making gifs of it on tumblr whenever I get free time. Please, let me know how you feel about this crossover. I've used quotes from a multitude of tv shows within, including the blacklist and luther. It's rather long but I didn't want to cut anything because I think its all important. This introduction part will be cut in two. I promise there will be Red/Lizzie. The first part is simply setting it up! (this will go up on ao3 later)

Happy Blacklist return day!

* * *

Elizabeth Keen knew when Raymond Reddington disappeared after he was taken by Anslo Garrick, she would be used to lure him out of hiding. Oddly enough, she did not feel particularly upset at the notion of being used like this but she knew Red had an agenda of his own: he had to make sure it was safe for him to come back before he actually reappeared. Not only did he have to make it safe but he had to avenge Luli. She was not sure of their relationship, there were questions but never spoken aloud and she did not want to assume anything. But she knew at least their friendship was as longstanding as their business partnership. And a loss is always hard especially dealt by the hands of your enemies. They had not spoken long enough that first phone call he got out post-abduction but she heard the exhaustion in his tone and the weariness of the torture Anslo had no doubt put him through, especially after he helped her escape while having his tracking device dug out of his neck. Without him around, the FBI tracked down more of the usual suspects than the blacklisters. After all, Fowler had told them Reddington was the only one on the blacklist. They knew he was out there biding time and planning his revenge. But they could not find him for a reason: he did not want to be found. Without him talking directly to her, Ressler took her even less seriously and Cooper was hardly letting her out in the field because she was a rookie agent. Instead, she was sifting through information hour by hour; old and new files on Reddington passing through her desk in hopes she would find a credible lead to him. Malik and Ressler worked night and day on leads to Reddington out in the field. The occasionally asked for her help but she shrugged and cited Cooper's directive and knowing Red, he would only be in contact with them on his terms.

She knew Ressler was watching her, surprised to find Dembe at her side when she was out of the Post Office. She was sure he thought her in cahoots with Red since the very beginning, but she knew where she stood with the criminal and his team. Surprisingly, at least to her, Dembe became a friend of sorts. He always knew when she would get off work. Briefly, she wondered if he was befriending her for Reddington; keeping an eye on her because the other man could not protect her himself so he entrusted the job to his most trusted associate. He rarely had long conversations with her, but he was somehow always waiting in the shadows. Tom never saw him; but then again she rarely saw Tom anymore. When she was not pulling fourteen hour days, she escaped with Dembe to the Hempstead house. Tom didn't seem to be concerned for her when they were home together. No one was attacking them in their house so he didn't press her about Nebraska again. She would often sit in Red's spot on the couch, letting the street light filter in through the window. Sometimes she came when the sunlight was still filtering in. But often, especially these days, the street lighting was her only source of filtering light through the window.

Tonight she had gone home to the lonely house she lived in. It was not such a strange notion to come here, but it made her wonder when Dembe suggested she should go home and wait by the phone. Typically, she was the one who contacted Red via the pre-programmed burner phone and not the other way around. She became that cliche that carried two phones: one for work and one for the one that supplied the phones. Dembe always found a way to inconspicuously get her the phone that had one programmed number. He would always dispose of it for her afterwards. They never talked longer than necessary but he has kept in contact and she knows Ressler and Cooper are itching for any information on Raymond Reddington's location. He never reveals the things Ressler and Copper question her with: his location, when he is coming back, that sort of thing. He knows she'll be questioned each morning as the team briefs one another on where they are at. He has hinted at coming back but needs to be sure another situation like the one that separated them months ago, doesn't happen again. Which is why when a call from Raymond Reddington came at 9:37 pm, she started packing a bag for an impromptu trip in the late night hour. The only thing he told her was to pack for a trip to the desert and to not bring any weapons, particularly sharp objects. He had taken care of everything else including her whereabouts to the FBI while Dembe picked her up in ten minutes. He laughed at his first statement and she made a note to ask him why he did when she got caught up on what was happening. She wondered if Cooper knew what they were actually doing; the real reason why she would be gone to the desert for an undisclosed time. She was sure after "Mr. Kaplan" and her team left that she was in the clear because they removed all the bugs. But no one really ever knew when they were being traced and monitored. Red was still missing his DARPA tracking device in his shoulder and he hadn't been in to get another. Not until the mole was dealt with anyway.

As she watched the familiar Mercedes pull up close to the house, she scribbled a note to Tom-just in case-and grabbed her go-bag to head down the few stairs and into the car.

"Where are we going?" Elizabeth asked as Dembe held the door open for her on his side of the car.

He didn't answer and when she was fully in her seat and the door closed, she got an answer.

"Socorro, New Mexico," Red said as she got in the car. He gave a flash of a smile before continuing. "Or close enough to it. Magdalena Mountains, more specifically. We're landing at Magdalena Airport in about five hours and my contact will meet us there."

"Red," she whispered.

She whispered his nickname like she had on the phone when he let her know that he'd be there if she was ever in need of him. It had been the first time they had seen each other in a few months, face to face. She was sure, in addition to Dembe, he was watching her from afar. As she took in his presence, the familiar fedora resting on his knee was the only thing that had stayed the same. His three piece suits and dress shoes that probably cost more than her wedding and engagement ring, were gone. In their place was a sweater, a dark jacket, and dark pants with heavy boots. Despite his outfit change, he looked the same. But more tired, she added as an afterthought. There was an aura of something unidentifiable when their eyes met in the darkness.

"Hello, Lizzie," he said. A smile, a genuine one, graced his lips.

Red handed her a file and she used her cell phone as light to briefly glance at the name and location on the first page in file.

"This is who we're meeting?" She asked.

He nodded.

"I thought the last known location was London," Elizabeth said. She double checked the top sheet and it said London, England.

"Interpol has even less intelligence than you g-men, present company excluded," Red told her.

"What is she doing there?" she asked.

"I hear there is a Very Large Array she's always wanted to see," he said.

He smiled and turned to look out the window as Dembe began his drive towards the private airfield just outside the city limits.

Liz turned to play with the corner of the file and wondered what she had gotten herself into and wondered if he had a little more than a seemingly impromptu plan.

* * *

Dembe entered the jet in front of her, Reddington behind her as she climbed the few stairs up into the cabin. She stood just to the side to let Red pass her, not sure where she should sit. She clutched the file against her while Dembe spoke with the pilot and Red moved ahead and took a seat towards the middle of the plane. Even in his plane, his back was never towards the door. Or maybe that was just when she was around. She wondered if he did it consciously anymore or if the years of looking over his shoulder and it was engrained in his being to never have your back towards the door.

"Who is she?" Elizabeth asked as she sat opposite Red and leaned against the plush leather seat. She waved the file in her arm slightly once she sat down.

"Alice Morgan," Red said simply. He pointed to the file that was as thick as the one she received from Cooper on him before she was to face him in the box for the first time. "Feel free to read. The lighting here is significantly better than that of the Mercedes and we have plenty of time to catch you up before you meet her in person."  
She bowed her head in a nod.

He suddenly stood from his seat and she looked up at him.

"Drink?" Red asked.

Liz shook her head and opened the file, intent on getting to know Alice Morgan. Unlike in the Mercedes, she found a few pictures attached to sheets of paper within the file. She listened to the rustling of his clothes, the clink of the glass as it hit the small bar top, the quiet pour of whatever alcohol he was about to consume. She felt more than saw Red return to his seat. She also felt the glances he gave her, even as he looked out the window next to him as they wait for the plane to taxi on the runway. Focusing her attention back on the file instead of the man opposite her, she skimmed through the few pictures at her disposal.

She was pretty, Liz thought to herself. Her brilliant red hair was the first thing she noticed as she ran a finger against the picture. She was striking, certainly. In the few pictures of Alice there were in the file, she certainly looked sophisticated if not on the cool side with her demeanor. Her prison intake picture certainly suggested if looks could kill, anyone the woman looked at would be assuming a fatal fate. As she continued to read about Alice Morgan, she wondered his she got away with all of this. How did no one remember her? Certainly with her looks-the fiery locks, the perfectly sculpted eyebrows, piercing blue-green gaze, and a knowing grin-she was sure at least someone would have marked her at a crime scene at least once. As far as Elizabeth Keen could see, Alice Morgan would be the type of women sure to draw attention to herself on looks alone. She was someone you definitely did a double take with, whether by curiosity, envy, or lust. How had Interpol not seen her escape from London? After all, Alice was a fugitive from justice and wanted in London for escaping Cherry Orchard for killing a police officer.

"She killed a cop?" Liz asked as she looked over at Red. She watched as a frown took over Red's face.

"A dirty cop," Red supplied. "The cop killed John's ex-wife and set the scene to look like John did it. Alice killed him with the cop's own shotgun and was arrested at the scene. She took full blame, acquitting John of all charges against him."

Her file briefly mentioned a John Luther but didn't supply a picture or who exactly 'John' was to Alice Morgan.

"Who is John?" Liz asked. "There is not a lot of information on him in this file."

"I would hate to spoil the surprise, Lizzie," Red said cryptically.

"Why won't you tell me?" she asked.

He gave her his little half-smile. He knew he was pushing her buttons and that she wanted all the information so she was prepared.

"What does she have that we need?" Liz asked as she browsed the first few sheets again.

"Information," was all he said.

"How do you know her?" Liz tried.

"Remember that time I told you I died in Marrakesh?" Red asked. At her nod he continued. "She is the one that saved my life; I owe her my life. However, she's certainly odd and requested I use her as a contact of sorts. She may have given up the sport but she certainly hasn't lost the taste. We have an informational partnership. Lizzie, do remember that despite what you will learn from that file, you cannot touch Alice Morgan. She is an asset and she must be protected at all costs."

"Why is she so important to you?" Liz wondered.

Red simply chuckled and turned to his glass of scotch.

Liz figured it was not an open subject at the moment. Closing the file she took to staring out the window herself, watching pockets of lit towns below them as they crossed the night sky.

* * *

When they touched down at the airport, the sun was still in a flux between setting and rising. The black-blue-orange sky gave a sort of ominous illusion to their escapades. A solitary, sleek, dark SUV waited for them as they taxied and came to a stop near an open hanger. When they deplaned, Red's hand was guiding her at the small of her back and Dembe carried their bags a few steps ahead of them. A man got out of the awaiting vehicle and stood next to the passenger's side door. She faltered, expecting the woman she read about on the ride there.

"It's okay Lizzie," she heard quietly as Red propelled her forward. "It's her partner."

She looked over at him warily but continued since Red had no qualms about the change. As they reached the SUV and the man, Red stepped away from her.

"John," Red greeted the awaiting man.

"Been a while, Raymond," the man greeted in return.

Surprise quickly replaced apprehension on her face as a thick British accent came out of the man's mouth. She watched as the two men hugged-much like how Red had greeted Dembe and Luli in the Post Office's subfloor garage-and then watched as Dembe was the most enthusiastic she had seen in a while. The two gave some kind of handshake and patted each other on the back and smiled graced their faces. The man-John, she reminded herself-spoke to Dembe but watched her out of the corner of his eye. She didn't know when Red had stepped up to her again, but his presence was comforting and familiar, given the side eye scrutiny the man was currently giving her. When he finished discussing whatever it was with Dembe, he finally turned to her, or Red, she didn't really know.

"Didn't know you worked with coppers," John said with a laugh as he looked over to her. He had glanced at her and no one had given any information away. She wondered how he deduced that she was FBI.

"John Luther," he stuck out his hand. "You can call me John or Luther. I answer to either."

"Elizabeth Keen, Liz," she stammered as she shook his hand.

"John was a DCI in London's Serious and Serials," Red said as he turned to her with a smile. "He was a bit of a profiler, somewhat like yourself, Lizzie. I am sure you will get along well."

The man nodded, somewhat warily, but trusted Red's judgement. In the meantime, she wondered what he had done to turn to the criminal side of the law.

"Oye, Alice is going to have fun with that," Luther said out loud.

"Speaking of," Red said nonchalantly and trailing off. Almost as if he expected the woman in the file to be the last one to pick them up.

"She had to finish up at work," John said with a hint of something playing at the corner of his lips. "She's found something or other in a disc galaxy and had to map it. You know how she is with dark matter and what not. She knows you are here though. I expect her in the mornin'. Well, the later mornin'."

The three men looked at one another before Dembe announced he would put the bags in the back before getting in. Red opened the back passenger side door for her and she got in quickly. She watched as the other man and Red moved to the other side of the car and Luther opened the other door for Red and closed it before he opened his own before driving away from the airport.

They drove into the mountains where the unpaved roads made for a bumpy journey. She wondered if the sun ever really set here. It seemed to be getting lighter the further up the mountain they drove. It wasn't light enough to actually see where they were going or what the landscape was like where they were driving. When they finally reached the house, it was darkened save for a porch light.

"We only have two rooms. Don't expect much company ever… being on the run and all," Luther said as he unlocked the door and ushered them inside. He flipped on a light that illuminated the space they stood in for the time being.

"The couch is comfy, if that helps," he shrugged.

Liz looked over at Red and he nodded.

"I will take the couch," Dembe said quietly.

"Right then," Luther replied as he looked between the three. "I'll show you the room and bring Dembe some sheets and leave you to sleep and what not."

Luther opened the door and moved out of the way so they could enter the space.

"Alice cleaned up yesterday. Fresh sheets and blankets instead of a comforter, as always."

"Thank you, John," Red said.

Knowing a dismissal when he heard one, he nodded.

"Alice and I are next door," John said as he tilted his head to the left. "I'll get Dembe sheets and blankets now. So, g'night, or mornin' or whatever."

"'Night," both Lizzie and Red parroted.

The door clicked shut and Liz felt Red's eyes staring at her form.

"So," Red asked almost sounding nonchalant.

"Have you been here before?" she asked.

"I have not," he told her honestly.

He waited for another question to be fired at him but when she looked away he knew he'd have to make the first move.

"If you are uncomfortable, we can always go in town and rent a motel room," he told her.

She watched as he unconsciously shuttered at the thought. But he'd belay his own comfort if she was uncomfortable around him.

"I assume we can be adults in this situation," Liz said as an answer.

Red opened his mouth but then thought better of it. He shut it and nodded instead.

"Good," she nodded. "I'm washing up and then going to sleep."

Red watched as she exited the room without another glance in his direction. He noticed the change the month away had brought between them. She was still apprehensive but the Lizzie he first met all those months ago would never agree to this much less share a bed with him as they escaped Washington DC for the middle of nowhere New Mexico. She was changing; growing into a strong, formidable opponent. He hoped she was able to see it as he does when he finds himself watching her.

* * *

It was a little after four a.m. when she was awoken by her name and a fleeting touch of warm palm on her cheek.

"Lizzie," the voice said as it finally reached her conscious mind. "Lizzie."

Her eyes opened and she took a few deep breaths as she shook the nightmare off. The darkness seemed overwhelming but she turned her head and found his eyes on her form. His fingers followed, not leaving her cheek. She found him on his elbow, leaning over towards her with an almost concerned look on his face.

"Nightmare," she said quietly. "Sorry."

He nodded and his thumb swept across her cheek before returning his arm to his own side of the bed. His touch was only to wake her, steady her after her nightmare. His eyes stayed on her as she closed her eyes, trying to rid herself of the Stewmaker's face. Having his own share of nightmares, he knew she was trying to regain her footing and banish the thoughts so she could sleep a few more hours. After all, she was not a morning person. He listened to her unconscious movements as he lay back down and stared up at the ceiling. His hands folded on his chest as he tried to be as quiet and as still as possible. He felt her jump slightly at the scratch of a key in the door lock, the quiet sweep of a door opening, and a coat being shed. She tried moving up to grab at her nonexistent gun on the nightstand but found herself tangled in a mess of blankets. She could see tired amusement dancing in his eyes as he turned his head towards her.

"It's Alice," he told her, looking back at the clock over her shoulder noting the early hour. "Dembe would have already taken care of it if it wasn't."

There was a low hum of voices as she assumed Dembe and Alice spoke to one another. She moved back down the bed, attempting to replace the blanket wall she had made when they found themselves with one bed to split between the two of them. The blanket wall was more like two blankets stacked and molded together in between them. As far as she could tell, Red had not moved an inch, save for his hand that woke her from her nightmare. Rather, it was her that thrashed about and shifted the wall. As she lay her head down on her pillow, not bothering anymore to make up the blanket wall again, she wondered if Red took it as an invitation as her warming up to him again.

"Would you like to talk about it?" He asked quietly as he watched her mind wander and then snap back to reality.

"It's the quiet," she replied. "I'm not used to it. It reminds me of the Stewmaker's cabin."

He closed his eyes but not before she saw the brief flash of anger. He had found her when she thought she was done for. He had come for her first and despite killing the man and proving he would protect her by any means. She still found the entire thing to be an out of body experience.

She wondered when she got comfortable with Red protecting her; when he became a confidant. Listening to the footsteps come down the hallway from the mysterious woman, she watched as Red opened his eyes again.

"You're safe, Lizzie," he supplied quietly.

Logically she knew this. She had a former cop, two criminals capable of killing, and the bodyguard of one said criminal surrounding her. It was her exhausted mind that did not.

"Get some sleep," he told her.

He watched her for another minute, his eyes-dark and wide in the dark shadows of the room-roaming her form before he gave her a small, comforting smile. She thought she must have imagined his hand slipping off his chest to rest between them. She watched as he closed his eyes and waited to hear his breathing even out again. Then and only then did her fingers touch the tips of his own. He was simply a reassuring presence, nothing more, she thought to herself. She definitely must have imagined his fingers curling slightly tighter towards his own palm because she was sure Raymond Reddington did not hold hands-or fingers, in this case-with FBI agents.

She wasn't sure when the muffled voices next door put her at ease enough to fall back asleep but they had. Her breathing evened out and her fingers contracted around Red's own before loosening evenly.

Red woke as soon as he heard her sleepy sigh and even, deep breathing signaling she had fallen asleep. He never slept for long nor very soundly-a fact he resented these days. Hazards of the job and a half a lifetime of looking over his shoulder, he thinks. He looked at their fingers, smiling sadly that she trusted him enough to not only share a bed but hold his hand in the wake of her nightmare. She shouldn't have done it: trusted him. He told her in the beginning that she is his second chance but maybe he's gotten too close to her. A stronger man could have walked away but he wasn't as strong as he used to be.

* * *

She woke to the smell of toast, sausage, eggs, and hints of coffee. Opening her eyes she saw the clock showed almost 10:30 in the morning. She turned to find Red had disappeared and a robe at her feet. She knew she hadn't brought a robe so it obviously had to be Red's that he had clearly left for her. Stretching and popping her back, she wondered if the others were in a similar state of causal undress. Putting the robe on and escaping to the bathroom, she brushed her teeth and put her hair up in a ponytail before walking the opposite way towards the voices. From what she could see, Dembe was at the toaster, Luther was at the stove, and Red was at the table with a newspaper in hand and the only one fully dressed, the others wearing sleepwear.

She walked into the spacious open room and wasn't sure where to look first: the view, the kitchen, or the new face in the mix. She decided the latter. The new face started to wrap an arm around John's middle as she stood behind him in the kitchen when she walked in. John was waiting for the kettle, Liz assumed, and new face-Alice Morgan-was talking with Red. Liz noted John's thumb caressed Alice's wrist absentmindedly, as she stood just off the kitchen entry. She noticed the woman halt the conversation and her piercing eyes took in her form. They were even more piercing in person, if that was even possible. Alice was not what she expected, despite looking at her picture in the file Red gave her. She was not particularly tall, though neither was she. She looked younger in the light of day, more innocent than her pictures led you to believe. Her hair had grown from what the picture had shown in the file-it was a bit longer than shoulder length, and flowing freely over her shoulders. The brilliant red shade was muted, of sorts. Maybe because she was on the run. It was still red but had just a bit of copper-like brown as an overtone. Despite the sunshine of New Mexico, she was ghostly pale. Her smile drew you in, as did the naturally perfect arches of her auburn brows. One rose naturally as her presence was taken in as she stood in the entry way of the kitchen.

"Lizzie," Red's voice said as he turned to find the reason Alice halted in conversation. He waved her over but the piercing gaze froze her to the spot. She dropped the gaze and looked to Red and that seemed to give her the motivation to move under the watchful eye.

"This is Elizabeth Keen," she heard Red say. She walked into the kitchen and moved to Red's side and noticed the woman didn't move or hold out a hand to shake.

"Lizzie, this is Alice Morgan," Red introduced.

Liz nodded her greeting and held onto the back of Red's chair.

"Alice," the other man in the kitchen chided.

Alice huffed and moved in front of her, sticking a hand out to shake.

"Still working on people skills, Alice?" Red joked.

"Among other things," she quipped.

Red spoke again as they dropped hands and as Alice moved towards John again.

"I think you two would simply adore one another," he claimed. "Hey, Lizzie, she likes putting nails in people's necks."

Elizabeth's brow arched as Luther cleared his throat for a moment and Alice looked anywhere but behind her at Luther. He waved a hand at Lizzie with gusto and she couldn't help but furrow her brow.

"When I first turned myself into the FBI, Lizzie punched a hole in my carotid with a pen. Then, she used a pen for a tracheotomy on Floriana. Sadly, Floriana expired."

"Campo?" Alice asked.

"Indeed," Red smiled and nodded.

She watched Red watch Alice's reaction.

"Well done," Alice bowed her head in what Liz took as respect.

"I knew that would interest you," Red said.

Liz wasn't sure who he was directing it at but she didn't miss the little hum of a laugh Alice made. She wondered what the woman's connection was to Floriana Campo.

"Come and sit, Lizzie," Red said. He folded the paper and pulled out the chair next to him. "You're just in time for breakfast."

As soon as she sits down at his side, Dembe brings toast and a mug of coffee and sets the latter down in front of her; Alice has a teapot; and Luther brings eggs and sausage to the the table. After everyone serves themselves a helping, she finds herself listening to conversations more than participating. She watches as Red catches up with Alice and John. He seems more carefree; he's less worn than how she first saw him yesterday in the car. She watches as John and Alice look at each other over the tea, food, and Red's questions. It is sort of strange, openly looking at a woman who could quite possibly find a way to kill you with the tea spoon she has in her hand, look at a man with an expression of love. Liz stiffens as Alice puts the spoon down and reaches for a knife and fork to cut her sausages. John seems unafraid and perhaps a little amused. He looks over the table to her and must notice her pause.

"Alice," John chides knowingly.

"Oh, fine," she responds. She gives him the knife and he sets it just on the other side of his plate. Elizabeth is sure Alice would and could reach the knife if she actually compelled herself to do so.

"We're still working on the manners, yeah," John points out. He looks directly at her because she's the new face without the little smile in the corner of her mouth like Red and Dembe.

Elizabeth thinks that they're going to have to find some kind of middle ground if she's going to be spending some amount of time here.

Alice's look in her direction challenges her to do just that, she thinks.

* * *

She's staring at a painting hanging in the middle of the wall in the sitting room. Or perhaps it's a picture, she rethinks as she looks closer. She noticed it before but this was the first time she had actually studied it in the quiet solitary existence she seems to lead in this house. Dembe and Red are outside while Red does his crossword, John is at the market, and she hasn't seen Alice in some time now. So, she stands and studies the framed picture of a spattering of dots surrounding a circle of blackness.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" A voice purrs in her ear.

She jumps and turns her head to find Alice smirking behind her. Her hands are clasped behind her and she leans slightly forward into Liz's personal space.

"This is a black hole," Alice begins. She half circles Liz and stops once she's directly across from her. Alice stares at the picture as she continues. "It consumes matter, sucks it in and crushes it beyond existence. When I first heard that, I thought, that's evil at its most pure. Something that drags you in, crushes you, makes you…nothing."

The last statement, Liz noticed she pauses for either dramatic pause or remembrance but either way the low and slightly husky tone Alice's voice takes on, sends a shiver up her spine. Her hands clasp together as she says nothing. It's meant to convey matter collapsing, Liz thinks. She can't look away from Alice as Alice stares into the vast nothingness of the black hole with a smile.

"Do you like space?" Alice says suddenly. She feels the stare as Alice turns from the picture to her.

Liz pauses before answering. She's never really seen the stars in DC. It's too polluted with light to really see the stars.

"Doesn't everyone?" Liz asked.

"I wasn't asking about everyone; I was asking about you," Alice says quickly, almost sharply.

"I suppose I do," Liz nods. "I don't get to see much. Stars, I mean."

"Ah, yes," Alice nods. "I suppose the city lights do dim the sky where you are. London was a bit like that. Socorro is vast and dim compared to them though. You can see billions of light years away. It's beautiful, really."

Elizabeth watches as Alice takes stock of who is around. However, Alice's attention seems to return to her in an instant.

"I have tried profiling you but nothing sticks," Elizabeth says suddenly. She thinks maybe it's the wrong place or the wrong time but she's speaking of what she knows and seems so interesting that Elizabeth Keen needs to know more about the enigma that is Alice Morgan. Maybe then she'll figure out why Red needs her so much.

Alice laughed. Liz even thinks it may be genuine by the little wrinkles that appear next to her eyes and the way her nose scrunched for a second.

"John is the only one that could ever profile me. The first few times he got it wrong. But he did finally see me," Alice told her.

Elizabeth feels Alice staring at her as if she was being profiled by looks alone.

"Tell me my profile," Alice retorted. "I would like to know what conclusions you have arrived at."

Elizabeth scuffs her shoe on the floor and falters a bit as she stares into the unknown depths of Alice's eyes. She didn't know why this woman was so different from Red. With him she easily assessed him but he has made her counter her initial judgments a few times over the past months.

"Come," Alice says as if she knew Elizabeth wouldn't respond to her demand. "It's tea time. Perhaps you should make note and use it for a profile, my tea making."

She doesn't really do tea but if it helps Alice let loose, she'll love tea for the moment. She's mesmerized by the routine Alice takes in making the tea. Every single movement is precise and controlled. She lets the water boil in the kettle and looks around at the utensils in the kitchen. Apparently not seeing what she needed, she heads to the utensils. Alice's hands are close to the knife set and it sends a chill down Elizabeth's spine but perhaps her curiosity in the woman is keeping her safe. Alice's hands are idle at her side as she peers into the drawer. Elizabeth watches her right hand, her knife hand, play a note from a tune only she can hear as it brushes against her thigh. Instead of reaching for a knife, Alice reaches for the second tea strainer.

"Dark or light?" Alice says as she turns around.

"Light," Liz tells her.

"Interesting," Alice says.

She thinks that maybe her tea preference tells Alice a lot about her without really knowing her. And soon enough Liz is caught up in watching Alice pour water over loose tea leaves in a filter atop each dainty cup. Soon enough, she's adding a cube of sugar into what she assumes is her cup and hands it over. Once free, Alice takes her own tea cup-milk, no sugar-into her hand and a plate of ginger snaps-biscuits, they all call them-in the other.

"Shall we?" she motions to the couch in the living room.

Liz watched as the killer criminal dipped a biscuit into her milky tea, biting off the piece with a firm snap of her teeth.

"The doctors in white coats call me a psychopath; John calls me a malignant narcissist, if that helps your profile any. I can feel things, not sentiment, but I can fake it quite well. I don't interact with the world in the way you would expect."

Elizabeth makes mental notes. She stares at her teacup and takes a sip. Its delicious and she wonders if Alice made this tea like this to make her more likely to drink it.

"Are you scared of me?" Alice asked. She took a sip of her tea and then finished off the rest of the biscuit.

"Yes," Liz said automatically.

"I have no wish to harm you. You are under Raymond's protection."

Alice smiles at her like she is a petulant child and she wonders what would happen if she wasn't under Red's protection.

"He gave me your Interpol file. It says you killed a police officer; that you were suspected of killing your parents," Elizabeth whispered.

Something must show on her face because Alice speaks again.

"Sociopaths, psychopaths, aren't serial killers," Alice says. Liz isn't comforted though. She knows the two synonymous terms are generally misunderstood and a scientific mystery. The profiler in her yearns for more information from the woman classified as such. "Psychopaths are people who have no empathy; we don't exist in the same emotional world as you and someone like John. We're rather narcissistic. If we turn to murder, it is because we want prestige, power, self-affirmation. I kill for logical, precise, calculated reasons. Often, they are people who offended me."  
She smiled at the corner of her mouth and gets a far off look like she was reliving a moment.

"You know, many psychopaths exist often in very high-powered careers. I was a research fellow at the local university in London but I did solve tangent minus 1x when I was nine and was accepted into Oxford at thirteen. I suppose Oxford was ultimately the better choice but mummy and daddy never let me choose which I would apply to: Oxford or Cambridge. You know that you can only apply to one not both. And mummy and daddy said it was Oxford or nothing. We're more alike than you think, Elizabeth Keen. John thought we weren't the same but the longer you spend time with another who sees the world differently than you, the more and more you see we're not all that different."

Alice almost reveled in the silence that followed. Elizabeth watched as she sipped her tea as if she spoke of the weather and not a psychopath's state of mind. The part of Elizabeth who tried to study the few literature books on the subject of a psychopath and sociopath's state of mind was interested in how Alice Morgan saw the world. The federal agent side of her was tempted to arrest her and send her back to England to face charges.

"Do you believe you are one?" Elizabeth asked.

"I don't place frivolous labels on myself," Alice told her.

"But you call yourself a criminal, a psychopath," Liz says.

"Only because you see me as one," Alice smiles. She tilts her head and a finger slips around the rim of her cup. "You believe Raymond and I are the same; cut from the same cloth and all those frivolous clichés. But weren't not, not really. I killed my parents because I wanted to; I killed Ian because he hurt John very badly; not to mention the dirty cop fiasco. I killed a man who was my husband only in name because I always wanted to be a widow. And I almost killed Tom Marwood because he was about to kill me. I cut his throat with a nail because I wanted to see him suffer. He was going to make John suffer by letting him choose only one; I had to at least injure him. The only one I ever killed for wholly unselfish reasons was Henry Madsen. He was going to tell and I couldn't have that hanging over John's head. Raymond kills because he is trying to protect himself and you, _Lizzie_. I am a selfish narcissist where he is a man running on a path he was placed on. Where Raymond is a criminal created by his own government, I am a criminal because I find it fascinating."

Liz flinches at the use of Red's nickname for her. But maybe that's the point Alice is trying to make.

"We all do it for different reasons. You may not understand why we do what we do but we're not playing god or killing individuals for some superficial notion of justice and revenge. If one takes emotion out of the equation of killing someone, it's a very black and white business. It's also very green in some cases. Trust him in that he will protect you despite the consequences to his own being."

Alice lets that sink in, bright blue-green eyes watching as Elizabeth Keen digests the information. Alice says so much and yet not enough. As always, it leaves her asking more questions than she's able to think of at the particular moment.

"Are you helping him in his revenge?" Elizabeth asks.

"Revenge missions are solitary missions. Too much emotion," Alice shakes her head.

The room is silent and Liz stares out at Red and Dembe.

"Have you ever seen a dying star?" Alice asks as she breaks the silence. "I mean, besides the ones that we see with our naked eye."

Liz shakes her head in the negative. The little hum suggests Alice has seen it before.

"It shines so bright and then fades into nothingness. Of course, we see it happen very little since the things we can see are already dead, lifeless stars. To the point, really, it's the stars that shine the brightest that you have to worry about. At any moment, their collapse is imminent and if you're too close you get sucked in. Emotion is like that, a dying star. John's star was so bright but his conscience sucked everyone in and as a result, they're no longer with us. Raymond will seek revenge on Luli's death. She was an important figure in his life; not just the fact she moved money like a magician. But I assume you already know that much. His revenge will consume him."

"He'll become higher on the list," Liz said quickly. "His immunity deal will be null and void. He'll be a wanted criminal again."

Alice nodded solemnly.

Elizabeth was poised to ask what else Alice knew about Raymond Reddington but got cut off.

"Oh, you're not ready for that," Alice shakes her head.

It was an attempt, Liz thought to herself.

Alice watched as Liz studied her black hole, letting her words hit all corners of Elizabeth Keen's mind.

"Did you really stick a pen in him?" Alice asked.

She flipped from hot and cold faster than taps in a washroom.

"I wanted answers," she told the other woman. "He wasn't giving them to me."

"I can see why he likes you," Alice said. She said it with a grin and a brief glance at her.

"You knew of me?" Liz asked.

"Mhm," Alice nodded. "When he got me into England, I gave him your thesis. He seemed rather proud, aside from the woman you chose to elevate in your work."

"You read it?" Liz wondered.

"I couldn't help myself," Alice said. "I'm a bit like that; a bit random in my curiosity."

Liz laughed, a quiet, little chuckle. But it was a laugh nonetheless.

"Us 'criminals,' as you so name us, have a network unlike the governments. Where you all keep information on people close to the vests, the criminal network-if you know the right contacts-know where everyone is at any given time. I knew Raymond Reddington was in Marakeesh while I was in Morocco myself. I did not know that we were going to be in the same location at the same time, but I knew he was there. I was looking for someone to get a very high profile, very un-disguisable copper out of the country within the coming months. Raymond only hires the best and I knew the documents had to be flawless. Raymond, in turn, knew I was in academia and knew I had access to what other criminals did not have: everything in regards to your education. In exchange for passports I gave him your transcripts, thesis, and any papers he may have found interesting."

"You were a fugitive," Elizabeth gasped.

"I still am a fugitive. The physics community is not one to gossip and tattle. I had ways of getting what Raymond wanted even if my credentials were suspended," Alice told her. "I had to get back to John."

"Why?" Elizabeth asked.

"I wanted something," she said slowly.

Elizabeth didn't have to ask; Alice saw the why in her expression.

"Him," Alice told her. "I wanted John."

"Why risk your freedom?" Elizabeth asks after a few moments of trying to postulate a reason in her head.

"Freedom means nothing if you're lonely, Liz," Alice says.

She finishes her tea and sets the dainty cup on the table in front of her. She gives a little hum as if she knew it somehow struck a chord. She nods her head and seemingly vanishes before Elizabeth's eyes.

Liz sips her tea, the taste now too sugary sweet as it cooled to room temperature. Her eyes meet Red's as he comes inside, the crossword puzzle book in the space between his arm and his side. He gives her a brief smile but she notices it doesn't quite reach his eyes like it used to.


	2. Chapter 2

Dinner was as successful as breakfast, according to Red. Luther and Red prepared the meal while Alice, Dembe, and Liz roamed comfortably back and forth between the kitchen and the sitting room. Liz was grateful there was wine instead of tea being served this time around. She didn't understand how these people could have so many cups of tea in one day. Then again, she figured she wasn't as worldly as the four of them. She listened to Alice's tales of the time she spent galavanting in South America as she bided her time, waiting for Luther to be finished with his work. Dembe made quite a few anecdotes about the time he, Luli, and Red went to Brazil and Ecuador. She and Alice made some sort of accord because Alice no longer looked at her as if she was going to go call the FBI or Interpol at a moments notice. Though, Liz did have reservations about the knife in Alice's hand as she cut through her own filet, Alice's reminder that she was under Red's protection calmed the sense of panic still bubbling underneath. She doesn't think you can ever truly let your guard down around a criminal, especially one proven to be a killer.

Late that night when the sun sets as much as she's seen it set, Liz watches from inside the house as Dembe, Alice, and Luther stand around a telescope. She stands near the picture of the black hole but looks outside instead of at the vastness of space. Through the glass door, Alice seems the most at ease she has ever seen the woman. She's enveloped in a sweater that is much too big for her, which suggests it belongs to the man who is seemingly glued to her side. She hears the occasional laugh come from outdoors. It's much too feminine to be one of the men so it must be Alice's, she thinks. It's strange.

"Strange, isn't it?" A voice quietly asked from behind her.

She closed her eyes involuntarily as he stepped behind her. He's a hair's breadth away from actually touching her. She wonders how he always seems to voice her thoughts as soon as she thinks of them. She suddenly finds herself remembering they're in New Mexico and she remembers from the occasional report that this is where people believe they get their minds probed. She wonders if Red has a mind probe machine that can read her thoughts; she laughs inside at the absurdity.

"What?" She asked.

She hates how airy her tone is. Maybe he can tell by the response how standing this close affects her. She really hates how this man can affect her.

"The possibility of a criminal and a copper being simpatico; they are each other's strength and weakness," he told her.

"Did you know them?" She wondered. She briefly turned and watched him as he looked outside. "When Alice killed those people? Did you help her escape?"

"I knew of her, just as she knew of me," he told her. "Even if Alice Morgan gets arrested, she finds a way out. When she killed the cop who killed John's ex-wife, she went to prison. She began to cut herself, so they moved her to a psychiatric hospital with a cast on her wrist. John visited despite his superior's warning to stay away and within the day, she had escaped. No one knows how she did it but she was on the run for a year. I was not the one to help her disappear; she's fully capable of doing that on her own. That's how we met in Marrakesh. We began to trade stories and formed an alliance."

"Did she tell you how?" Elizabeth asked.

"We all have our secrets, Lizzie" he said cryptically.

She watched in the glass of the sliding door how he looked at her as if she would disappear before his eyes. When her eyes met his in the reflection, he turned away. A moment later, his presence disappeared to the couch and a he was enthralled with a book. She stands at the window for a little longer, looking at the stars from her position. She doesn't think she's ever seen stars shine so bright.

She watches how Alice rarely takes her eyes off Luther. She wonders how it all began and she finds herself creating a grand backstory for them in her head. If she wasn't intimidated by the woman, perhaps she'd ask her to share the tale, how they became inseperable. Even as Alice speaks and Luther consults the star map on the table next to the telescope, her eyes never stray. She shouldn't be surprised, Alice Morgan is an astrophysicist: she lives and breathes the things what we cannot see. She knows Alice feels her stare; Dembe's looked back to the house a few times but does not invite her outside. Turning from the scene she seeks refuge on the couch.

"What are you reading?" she asks as she sits. She can't help the way her body naturally angles towards his.

He holds up the cover and lets her read it.

"Dark matter distribution in disc galaxies?" she furrows her brow.

"It's like a window into Alice Morgan's mind," he says. His fingers tap on the lower part of the cover and her eyes are drawn to it. She sees Alice's name printed bold and centered on the cover.

She looks beyond the book to the door and hears deep laugher she thinks might be John's.

"They love each other?" she asks, switching topics.

"As much as Alice knows how," he nods.

"What?" Liz wonders.

Red smiles that little smile he gets when he knows she's fishing for information.

"I assume when you talked with Alice today she told you about psychopaths," Red considers her and she nods once. "She believes humans are simply matter. We're nothing else; we're just balls of matter. Need I remind you, first and foremost she is a physicist. She comes from a physicist's point of view, hence: matter. Something happened between them and she understands there is love in the world. I don't think she's ever loved anyone as much as she loves John Luther. It began with an obsession and ended in whatever this is that they're doing."

"And you trust her?" Liz asks.

"With your life," Red tells her.

Her brows furrow and she lets the answer sink in. Not his life, her life.

"I told you I will protect you, Lizzie," Red says after a few minutes. "And right now Alice Morgan is the only one I trust with your safety. That is one reason why I brought you here: she asked to meet you."

He stands, placing the book beside her on the cushion and she watches as he heads towards the room they share. The door shuts behind him and she is alone with her thoughts and the book beside her. She picks it up and turns to the first page. Perhaps she should get to know the woman that is to be her guardian of sorts.

* * *

She still wasn't used to the quiet stillness of the mountains. Or maybe it was the nightmare she had yet again most likely brought about by the stillness. She found herself once again seeking Red out. He didn't awaken this time or maybe he did and he was sparing her. She moved closer, her fingers curling around his bicep as she sighed and tried to relax. She listened to the unconscious sounds in the quiet of their room: his breathing, the twitch of his muscle as she made herself comfortable around him. His touch or rather her touching him kept the nightmares at bay for the rest of the night.

In any case, she woke early enough Red was still asleep. He looked like he might have needed it but she would not mention that to him. He was already in bed last night when she eventually moved there, not asleep but reading files. He greeted her with a nod of his head but didn't proceed to share information or whatever he seemed to be working on. They didn't talk but the silence wasn't awkward or heavy. They didn't need conversation between them. She was sure she had fallen asleep before him since she turned and found the book she had brought was with the stack of files on the nightstand. That was one thing she missed when she awoke from her nightmare. She had a nagging feeling he rarely slept for long and tried to quietly leave the bed. He did shift his arm slightly as she released the hold she had on it. As she put on his robe and escaped the room, she heard the shower running so she skipped splashing her face with water to wake herself up. She knew it was Dembe as soon as she saw an empty couch. Although it wasn't too early in the morning, the tea maker in the kitchen seemed surprised by her appearance.

"Sorry," she said as she averted her eyes when she realized he only had sweat pants on.

"S'ok," John shrugged. "Just didn't expect anyone to be up yet."

She nodded and looked up again as he went back to pouring tea. As she studied the expanse of his muscular frame, she caught a glimpse of ink on his side. She obviously stared too long and was rewarded with a small smile from the gruff man as he turned around again.

"Orion," Luther said. He moved his arm and turned to his side, letting her see the entire thing. "She likes to draw constellations, black holes, that sorta thing. And of the ones we can see, Orion is her favorite because of the Abell 520 cluster and Betelgeuse. The dark matter in 520 doesn't behave like it does in other clusters where dark matter has been looked at. No one knows why it does what it does. She has theories but they're just theories. The cluster, it's known as the 'train wreck' cluster. And Betelgeuse shines the brightest. She thought it apropos."

Elizabeth nodded and looked over in the direction of the closed bedroom doors before turning back to him. She followed him as he made his way to the sitting room with the tea on a tray.

"Does she have one?" She asked him.

He nodded and poured two teas. She noticed it was darker than the tea Alice shared with her yesterday. He gestured for another cup but she shook her head. Just as he finished stirring the milky tea, Alice swept out of her room.

"Alice," he called out. A moment later, she was in the sitting room, looking between them. He motioned to her robe and made a motion with his hands. Before Alice sat down next to John on the couch, she undid the silky pale green robe, lifted her shirt, and faced Elizabeth.

Working in the FBI, she knew tattoos were fingerprints to catch bad guys. She had seen her fair share of tattoos but she had never seen a white inked tattoo. She'd also seen some tattoos of Roman and Greek gods but never the constellation of the gods as an accurate depiction.

Alice sat and leaned in toward Luther but never touched him. She sipped her tea, a pleased hum passed her lips as she lowered the cup before speaking.

"Tattoos easily identify us, could be used against us if we were ever caught, but the fact I have pale skin and white ink and he has dark skin and black ink makes it less likely anyone will see it," Alice said.

Liz nodded both in understanding and wonder if Alice would do something to jeopardize her freedom in the States.

"Do you have it?" Alice asked.

"It? You mean one?" Liz wondered.

"What are we discussing?" a voice asks from behind them.

Luther and Alice turn toward the voice but she only tilts her head as he comes to sit next to her. His arm goes around the couch and his hand lands on her shoulder.

He twitches his thumb back and forth absently as he looks to each of them.

"Tattoos," Alice says as she turns to face Red. "I was asking your companion if she has one."

"Thinking of getting one of your own, Lizzie?" Red asks with a chuckle.

"You have one?" Liz asks.

"I swear Donald mentioned it in one of his book reports," he says flippantly. "Guess you'll have to find out where it is one day."

Alice's laugher startles her.

Luther finds another teacup and Red chuckles in response to what she is sure is an amusing facial expression of hers.

"We'll find you a suitable one," Red says lightly.

Luther hands red a cup of the tea and excuses himself to put a shirt on now that everyone is up and about.

As she smiles nervously, she wonders how serious he is if she reads between the lines of his statement.

* * *

After lunch, she's reviewing Red's file of Alice in the bedroom when Luther and Dembe knock on the door. They tell her more than ask if she would come on a hike with them. She agrees to the proposition and thinks maybe Luther can shed some light on Alice's motives and why exactly Red needs her and her information. She knows things are missing from the file-his relationship to her being one of them-but doesn't want to ask again. At least not yet anyway. Alice lets her borrow a pair of hiking shoes and she glanced at the two souls left in the house as she closed the door.

When the other three leave, Red handed over stacks of files to Alice as they made their way into the kitchen. He busies himself with making tea as she stands and spreads out the files in some kind of order as she opens them.

"Fitch took you?" Alice asked as if she wasn't informed already. "Well, hired Garrick to take you?"

"There's a mole feeding him and the agency information on when I enter the black site. I changed the state of play by leaving but still need to protect Lizzie, take down the network who hired Anslo, and continue to eliminate those on the blacklist," Red said nonchalantly.

"And you called me," Alice told him. She stops placing the files on the table and turns to watch him make tea instead.

"There's a total of twenty six people who know I turned myself into the FBI. I'm far too close to get information and not have it traced and leaked back to me," he said.  
Alice looked over at him and noticed his posture was stiff and every movement was calculated.

"You only call on me when you feel you cannot protect yourself," she said slowly. She waited until he turned to face her. "Am I to protect the girl? The federal agent who fears the mere thought of me? If you want my help, the agent must trust me and my directions. I attempted a conversation and I can see the wheels moving about in her head. So, please, tell me again: why are you here?"

Red knew what she wanted: him to outright ask for her help. She makes John do it so why should she not make him admit his weakness to her as well. He placed the teapot, milk, and two tea cups on a tray. Ignoring her for the moment, he set the tea tray in the middle of the table and watched as she looked down. Under the tea cup he had designated her to have, lay a playing card. A red ace of spades stared up at her and she looked back up to him.

"Alice," Red stated. "I need you help."

"Excellent," she grinned. "Shall we begin?"

They were above the house. At least that's what she assumed. She looked at their view, the mountains just east and the Rio Grande meandered to the west. She was surprised to find trees so far out in the distance where the desert met with the mountain range. But then, she's never really seen the desert or the Southwest so many that's just a natural occurrence in this place. The fresh air is amazing, she realizes. She feels a bit lighter out here and she's read that a higher altitude can do that to a person if they're not used to it. But maybe that's just a placebo effect for those who desperately need a vacation and they feel the stress and weight of the world leave them. The smog of DC seems to seep out of her as the mountain air flows around her. Luther and Dembe stood on either side of her. Luther is pointing things out to both of them so she tunes in. She was surprised how tall the new man was. He towered over her by a head and shoulders, but his shoulders slumped. His shoulders slumped as if he carried the weight of the world on his shoulders. She wondered if this was her future as a profiler: feeling the need to escape to the middle of nowhere only to find the world still weighed upon you.

"Out there is the VLA, the uh, Very Large Array," Luther says as he points south. "That's where Alice spends most of her day."

She can see white bowls coming out of the desert floor. She thinks maybe there's a bigger one but in the desert she knows your eyes can deceive you.

"Did Raymond give her a job there?" Dembe asks.

John nods and perhaps she notes the proud smirk he has playing on his lips just so.

"She was fine just being a tourist an' sneaking into the facility during the tours. We have enough money to last us a lifetime. I guess being a genius kid scientist sets you up for life. But he set her up with a brilliant resume. Donna Feynman has all of Alice's degrees. 'Cept Donna got 'em all at the regular university ages. You know, older than 13 and 18 when Alice got into university."

"Donna?" Elizabeth asks.

"She's Donna and I'm Richard Feynman when we're out in the real world. Whatever that is," Luther nods. "Citizens of Great Britian who moved here because we're space oddities. Truthfully, I always wanted to see the desert and she's always wanted to see the Very Large Array. Funny how we both wanted the same thing, really."

"Richard?" Liz asked. "You don't look like a Richard."

"And she looks like a Donna?" Luther laughed.

Liz had to give him that one.

"Richard means brave ruler," he says. He takes a drink from his water and turns his face into the sun. He smiles and his pearly whites shine as he laughs a bit. It's as if he rarely gets out much. She thinks he likes the heat, despite it only being a mild, sort of chilly, 62 degrees out.

"She likes words; Likes the puzzles. But she never calls me that, Richard, I mean. Finds it funny I'm not really a leader anymore. More of a follower these days; I go where she does."

He shrugs his shoulders as if he has no cares in the world but she can see by the shrug of his shoulders he does. But that's not for her to judge. She has enough on her plate trying to find a medium to get Alice to not look at her like she is the next item on the menu. She knows someone else who likes words and puzzles. And as they make their way back down to the house, she wonders what else Alice and Red have in common.

"C'mon, I show you our favorite spot," John says as he looked at his watch before starting up a trail to the right.

They traded indoors for out when Red finished telling his tale to Alice. She stepped outside onto the patio and he followed. His fedora landed on his head as soon as he stepped out the door and turned to face the view. He could feel the stare she gave him and he worked his jaw in an effort to wait for her to speak first.

"Tell me about her," she says as she turns to the view. She feels he is more apt to answer if he's given room to speak his mind. "Why did you turn yourself in her first day?"

"Because if I had made any contact with her before the first polygraph, she wouldn't have passed. She's not very skilled at deception."

Alice hums and he thinks that maybe Alice could teach Lizzie a few things about deception.

"She is quite curious," Alice says. "More so than you ever were about me and my past."

"She's nothing like her profile from her FBI profile," Red lilted. His voice always rose in affection when it came to speaking about Elizabeth Keen. He never really truly gets to speak about her with another because she's the one thing he kept a secret from everyone but his most trusted allies. He thinks maybe Dembe got tired about hearing about the Elizabeth Keen but then she went and stuck a gun in his face and told him to get out of her way. Since then, he's done nothing but agreed with his boss and believes she is the only one that can really keep him on his toes. Dembe always laughed whenever Luli sang her praises. Not much impressed Luli but she understood at least the criminal and the profiler had some sort of bond or connection. "She's stronger than she knows. She has this heart... that's so honest and courageous at the same time. She's incredibly eager; I think it might land her in a bit of trouble. Always keeps me on my toes; Dembe's as well. A bit of a loner but who isn't these days."

He chuckled at his last statement. He's a bit like her in that respect.

"Don't exploit her darkness, Raymond. You'll hate yourself in the end for doing it. Rather, appeal to the profiler in her that wants to understand how your mind works."

She turned to him and watched his green eyes take in her form. A silent question played in them and she expanded.

"You think I don't see the darkness?" She gave a low laugh. "As you said, she's a loner like you, me, John, even Dembe. You've no doubt shown her the moral gray line between being a patriot and a criminal. I have to study people to practice their emotional scale in order to mimic it in certain situations. Elizabeth has all the markings of being brilliant but brilliance only gets you so far. Look where John ended up: gallivanting the world with a woman he wouldn't let himself think about let alone want until everything he knew was burned to the ground."

She watches as he rubs the brim of his fedora, pointedly ignoring her stare.

"Be open," Alice said. "She wants to want a pixie, a straight laced life, but craves the spontaneity of your life whether she knows it consciously or not. Let her see Raymond Reddington rather than 'Red' Reddington. You and I both know there is a difference."

She waited, watched as her observation took root in his mind.

"Henry Madsen-the man I killed for John," Alice began quietly. Red's head turned towards her again, skeptical and Alice smiled fondly at the memory. His name sent her back to the day she killed him. "Madsen was solely for John. I did it for him because I didn't want him to lose the one part of his life he thought he could control and the only thing he loved."

"Yes, well," Red countered. "I killed a few people to protect Lizzie and she's wanted nothing to do with me afterwards."

"Blacklisters who were trying to kill her," Alice pointed out.

Something inside him clicks. It was all blacklisters, he realized. His list of people he wanted destroyed, not hers. Of course, those who made up his blacklist are also criminals and serial killers off her own list, the ones who evade capture or get away clean when dirty. Perhaps he could shed light on these individuals, lead her to their arrest and have her allow him to help her instead of the other way around.

Alice knows they'll be back soon and she has to get a head start on the files before John gets back and attaches himself to the case.

"Wholly unselfish reasons," she said for parting wisdom.

She didn't look back to see how he took the advice; she only hoped he took it.

When Dembe, Liz, and Luther returned from their hike, Red is reading a book in the sitting room and Alice was nowhere to be found.

"Your room," Red said in greeting as he looked up to find he had company.

Luther nodded and made for the back of the house. Dembe excused himself to the shower. Red looks at her as she stares openly at him. She avoids him and makes for the door that led to the back patio. She wasn't surprised when footsteps followed behind her a moment later. She doesn't know why she's upset about being left out of the loop on this one. He does eventually tell her things but never tells her everything.

"Did John show you their view of the VLA?" Red asked.

"Yes," Liz said in a clipped tone.

"What's wrong, Lizzie?" Red said a moment later.

"Did she give you any information?" she asked. "I assume that is why I was told to go on a hike."

"Alice will speak with John and they will work their magic. And when they have looked the information over, I can fill you in," Red said to her.

"Why am I even here?" She asked quietly.

She turned and found him staring out at the view. Suddenly she knew there would be no response other than silence to her questions.

Meanwhile, in John and Alice's room, the wall was filled with tacked up pieces of information. Alice stood with red string, linking two sheets of information with a picture and looped the string around the tack.

"This is what he brought you then," John said as he closed the bedroom door.

Alice hummed her response and John stepped up behind her, taking in her handiwork.

"He wants you to help him dismantle whoever killed Luli, yeah? What about Fitch?" John asked.

"He wants to leave Fitch for himself. We are to merely supply him with all the information we can find and he goes on a killing spree to avenge Luli," Alice told him.

"Benny still owes us a favor," Luther says as he studies the information.

"Already contacted him. I made copies so you can David Bowie it after you take a shower," she tells him. She looks up to find him zeroed in on the information. He's locked in, as expected. "Shower then we'll play coppers and criminals."

Showered and dressed, Luther is leaning down from the rolling office chair Alice placed in the middle of the room and pieces information together as he asks her questions. His signature way of looking information, a decoupage, thanks to David Bowie.

"He really said he needed your help?" he asked amused.

"Yes. And he's turned in his card to have me protect 'Lizzie,' I think," she says as she emphasizes the nickname she's heard Red use for the other woman. "He believes there's a mole inside the FBI; knows there's a mole, really. He's ruled out Liz but no one else."

"I found a pattern," he says as he stares at his circle of information. "With the Garrick stuff."

She steps into the circle and stands behind him, looking at the information as she gripped the back of his chair.

"Interesting," she says more to herself than him. "I think we have enough for Raymond to proceed with phase one."

She steps out and goes to find Red. The grin can't be wiped off her face as she noticed the whole thing took less than four hours. A record for them, she thinks.

Elizabeth Keen didn't really have a picture in her head of John and Alice's bedroom but she was surprised to find it simplistic. A king bed with a wrought iron headboard took up one part of the room, a large bookshelf on the opposite side was filled to the brim. Not much else was here and she wondered if it was because technically they would always have to be on guard to run from any location.

Her mouth fell open as she looked at the large circle of information on the floor and the wall of information and red string just beside it. Luther sat in a chair in the circle, Alice stood next to the wall. Red and Dembe didn't seem phased about the informational mess they stumbled upon. She stared at what she assumed was Alice's handiwork. She glanced at her picture and noticed most of her strings were connected more to Red than the FBI. She wondered if Alice knew of the things Red kept from her about their 'connection.' Liz tuned back in as Alice began to talk about the information on the wall.

"We found the man watching Liz's house she didn't kill, the paramedic, and the doctor. We looked into the four banks you run your money through on the east coast. Unfortunately, a paper trail doesn't cover cash very well if they used that method of payment. Lucky for you they all seem to be in the same general area. However, that does leave a risk for a body count.

"You'll need to," Alice paused and looked carefully at Red, "persuade all these people to get you some information. You know, bank account numbers and the like And there is a little matter with this man here, Aram. He's a patsy. Benny looked into the fellow and he's much too brilliant to be tripped up and linked to a traceable account. You'll need to persuade him to prove he's not your FBI mole though."

The way she said persuade, with a gleam in her eyes and the carefree tone, she reminded herself she was dealing with a killer.

"John can get information from Benny but he does not have access to any American databases or banks without the risk of being caught," Alice noted.

"Why Aram?" Liz asked. She followed the red strings that came out from his picture.

"These technical people have eyes and ears everywhere, they just don't like to share. If you take Aram and make a threat or two, he can both prove to Raymond that he is innocent and lead you to the one who ultimately supplied the funds to Anslo and the plan that is currently in place."

"Fitch is on the inside and high up. He uses his real name at the justice building but I don't know it," Luther piped up from his circle. "Look."

Red stepped into the circle and noticed the connections right away. As she looked from the outside, she only saw bank statements and pictures, no connections.

Obviously Luther and Alice were already knowledgable on this Fitch man and whoever supplied the funds to take Red from the Post Office.

"This is Fitch?" she asked as she toed a picture.

"Yes," Red nods.

"I've seen him before," Liz tells him.

Red's eyes harden and she tries to stand her ground. Its not her fault. She didn't know the man was bad.

"At the Post Office," Liz said. "We've been getting interrogations at least once a week. He was with Cooper once. I walked past Ressler's interrogation and he was in the one way mirror room."

Red turns to Alice and his face expression is blank to Liz but must hold some sort of statement for Alice.

"Brownie's honor," was all Alice said with the three finger salute at her temple.

She wonders what the hell the exchange was about.

* * *

As the sun began to set in the sky behind them, Raymond Reddington slipped a folded piece of thick paper into her coat pocket as he kissed her cheek as he said his farewells.

"I'll contact you soon," Red said as he moved back a few steps to align himself with Elizabeth Keen.

Alice bowed her head and stuck her hands in her coat pocket. Her hands glided over the piece of paper, itching to take it out. But she knew he had placed it there for a reason. Elizabeth Keen would not and could not know about this particular secret, whatever it may be.

"Don't be a stranger," Alice said as she looked to Red and then Elizabeth.

Elizabeth nodded. She was less scared of Alice now that they had some kind of rapport but she still feared the woman. She was sure the only allegiance she took seriously was her partnership to John Luther. But if Red was always watching in the shadows, she supposed she was technically safe from the threat of Alice.

"We should be going, Lizzie," Red said as he broke the creeping tension.

Luther and Alice leaned against the car hood as they watched the two make their way to Red's jet. The sun was slowly swallowing their figures as it rose in the sky. When she knew it was safe, Alice's hands crept from her coat pocket and she twirled the piece of paper through her fingers once before framing it in her hands.

"What's this?" John asked as she opened the paper.

"A job, I assume," Alice said as she opened the thick paper to find a small legal sheet of information printed in red pen and a picture.

"Polar coordinates?" John asked as he looked at the the six numbers at the top of the sheet.

"Lincoln, Nebraska," she said.

John wasn't surprised she knew exactly where the number led.

"No killing," was all he supplied.

As they head back to their hideaway in the mountains, she looked at her target's picture. He's pretty, looks innocent enough-but then again she was a research fellow who interacted with university students before she murdered her own parents, and she wonders who he is and what he's deserved to have Red hire her.

She sits next to Red this time around. Pulling out the book Alice gave her, she went to the marked place.

"Huh," she said aloud. She flipped the card over and Red snatched it out of her hand.

"Where did you get this?" He asked.

"It was in the book. Alice handed it to me before we left," she told him.

"That thieving little monkey," he shakes his head.

"What does it mean?" She asks.

He flips the card over and stares at it. She knows that the ace of spades in a regular deck of cards is typically black. Yet this ace of spades is red. She figures it has something to do with him.

"It's her calling card when she works for me," he tells her. He hands her the card back and she traces it with her eyes. "If she's given you this it means you get one free pass."

"What's that supposed to mean?" She wondered.

"If you are ever in need-assassination, theft, burglary, intimidation, whatever-all you have to do it write the job on a piece of paper, attach a picture, and the card and send it to her. She responds with an ace of spades in the black color when the job is done."

"Why did you need her?" Elizabeth asked again.

He worked his jaw and huffed a breath as he looked at her. His fingers switched and she watched his thumbs play with each other as they lay folded in his lap.

"I used my own red spade," he said quietly. He nodded to the card she held in her hand. "For intimidation."

"Who?" She asks.

He gives her that little smile when he knows she won't like the answer so she lets it drop for now. She's sure it will appear on her desk in the coming week or whenever he finally makes his appearance.

"When are you coming back?" She asks.

"Soon, Lizzie," he says. "Just have to clean up a mess first."

She knows he will have to avenge Luli before coming back. She just hopes he makes it quick.

"Will you do anything to Aram?" She asked.

"Depends on if he gives me the things I ask of him," Red said. He looked over and watched as she rubbed her thumb against her scar. "What is it, Lizzie?"

"It's just... He saved my life. In the post office, I was captured and Aram shot the guard before the others came and brought us to Anslo."

"And you want me to spare him," Red concluded.

"I don't know what I'm asking," she shrugged. "Just... keep that in mind when you threaten him. I wouldn't be here without him. And I wouldn't have found your location, late as I was."

Red frowned and his brows furrowed.

"Aram made a copy of the videos. I found someone watching the house; I killed him and Mr. Kaplan took the evidence. When I was looking for his car while she was doing that, Mr Kaplan and I found six addresses and the first warehouse led me to the listening post. I found the church after looking through decommissioned blacksites with Meera. I did try and save you. Though, I was too late."

"Lizzie," he said quietly. He waited until she made eye contact with him-he tilted his head and lowered his chin to become less intimidating. "If I don't want to be found, I leave no trace."

"Dembe found you," she had a light tone that conveyed the fact she thought herself lame in comparison to his bodyguard.

"Dembe had known me for years; knows all the locations of my safe houses. It's only natural he finds me when he wants to speak to me. It did take him a few houses."

She laughs a little, quiet, brief laugh. It belays the hurt and confusion he sees running through her face and her body language.

"I didn't want him to hurt you, Lizzie," he told her. He reached over and placed his hand on the armrest, palm facing up. It took her a moment, a hesitant moment before she placed her hand in his. His fingers slowly closed around hers, giving her ample time to rethink the option if need be.

"I will always do whatever I have to, in order to protect you," he tells her. His thumb brushes her scar and he looks out to the window.

She sees in the faint reflection his own face. The tug downward of his lips as he frowns ever so slightly. She breathes in deep and shifts a little closer in her seat. It's a start.

* * *

Alice had never visited Lincoln, Nebraska before. The city landscape she was met with countered her opinion of the otherwise desolate farming mid-state. Her target is being housed in an affluent neighborhood, Reddington had told her when he greeted her and John at the airport five days ago. It wasn't as affluent as she was used to-foreign cities or even the likes of New York City or Washington DC. No, it was affluent farm country. Over the last few weeks-between his revenge runs-Red supplied her with a file of information. Surprisingly, it was slim for a man of Reddington's caliber of being an information and resource man, on her target, the building's blue prints, and the security surrounding the house-to warn her of the potential security nearby. She expected it to be harder than one day worth of surveillance with John but the man still had a routine to keep up. It also helped Dembe handed her his notes when Reddington had him follow the man back in DC. The picks slipped in the lock with ease born through years of practice and she placed the magnet on the trip before it sounded. It wasn't the easiest house for breaking into but she had some familiarity with breaking and entering. She thought back to Zoe and Mark, how she had scared them so easily when she wanted to find out more about John.  
Her target was working at the kitchen table, either on legitimate or illegitimate business, when she interrupted him. He had glasses on, Red warned her he typically wore them, that somehow made his eyes wider and more innocent looking than the picture Red supplied her in New Mexico. John did most of the surveillance so no one suspected anything when she did make her appearance.

Her heeled boots clicked on the darkened maple hardwood floor as she made her way to the dining table. Never one to mask her entrance, she smiled as he turned his head up from his paperwork. She noticed the bottle of wine and the glasses on the counter, pouring herself a small tasting of the wine before settling herself at the table. She looked over the papers as she sat across from him. She swirled the deep red wine and tipped the glass to her nose.

"Smokey, floral," she noted out loud before she tipped the glass to her lips.

The taste rang the same as the smell with a slightly fruity aftertaste. It wasn't her cup of tea, so to speak. Setting the glass down carefully, her blue-green eyes zeroed in on the man in front of her. She watched as he readied himself to say something, anything to her to show she's not afraid of her.

"Alice Morgan," she greeted. Her smile was overly sweet, large, and placating. "You're Tom Keen, yeah?"

"Who sent you?" He asked. "Why are you here?"

Alice's smile dropped, her lips turning slightly into a frown as she tsk-ed the man in front of her.

"Raymond Reddington," she said.

His eyes lit in acknowledgement. Perhaps there was even an understanding, she thought as he clutched the pen in his hand. Silly thing was going to try and use it as a weapon; she pitied him and his simplistic notions of protecting himself against her.

"He has a network of spies, hackers, thrives, and assassins at his disposal," Alice begins. "To his benefit I can work in all four categories but I do prefer the assassin moniker: the thrill of the kill and the like."

She thinks maybe he loses his grip on the pen as he starts back in his chair but doesn't run. Doesn't want to be labelled as a coward.

"Who is Raymond Reddington? Why did he send you?" Tom asked.

"I think you know exactly who he is and why he sent me," she told him. "Does Lizzie actually believe you are at a job interview? Here? My god she'd have to have a lobotomy to move here with you. You're gone for another, what, two days? What fun we could have together."

Tom's previously opened mouth closed into a grim line and she thought maybe she should get her point across.

"I don't like you, Tom," she said quickly. "You see, Lizzie visited recently. We became, I suppose, friendly. I like her; she's strong, capable, loves the version of Tom Keen she knows a great deal. But you're lying to her and interfering with Reddington's operation. And, well, we can't have that now, can we?"

Tom opened his mouth, to make a rebuttals but she spoke once again.

"I'm not here to kill you, per say."

"You're not?" Tom asked skeptically.

"I'm afraid not; sorry, she said. She frowned, emoted a great deal of pain in the decision, she hopes.

"No. No you're not," he said quickly.

Apparently she didn't fake it well enough. She did try, at least.

"No, you're right, I'm not," she agreed. "I have no qualms about killing you or facing possible repercussions from killing you. But Raymond wants you alive so alive you must stay. I come with a warning: do not harm Elizabeth."

She stood from her chair and he followed suit.

"And if I don't?" Tom tried.

Alice grinned, daring him to try to not follow the order. However, she likes words and how he gets frightened when she uses them.

"Well," she said quietly. Her voice dropped a decibel and she stared into eyes too big behind the glasses. "Then I'd have to leave. And one night, I'd have to come back. I can find you address easily enough in DC. After all, I did find you here."

Tom heard the warning, knew that although he didn't ever encounter Alice Morgan before, he didn't want to provoke her. He watched as she walked around the table to his side. He stood, hoping the height difference may have her think twice. He watched the pen knife drop out of her sleeve. But she was too quick and he never truly saw it coming. His shirt was slashed with a small cut and crimson liquid began to pool quickly. It was a small cut but done painfully.

She breathed in deeply, dropping the card and the pen knife onto the table and made sure it stuck into the wood, tip first. She looked up from her minuscule knife and found him clutching the small but bloody wound.

"Tell who you're working for that Alice Morgan says hello," she said with a brief turn up of her lips. She watched him for a moment, reveling in the tang of iron tainting the air and the slow drip of blood as it pooled around his fingers as he staunched the bleeding.

As she exited the house, she slipped a glove off one hand, pulled out the disposable phone, and dialed the number as she walked to John and the awaiting car just down the street.

"Hello," the familiar voice answered on the other end.

"It's Alice," she said. "Tell him it is done."

"I will give him the message," Dembe told her.

"Excellent," Alice nodded though he couldn't see.

"He will be in touch," Dembe finished.

They hung up the phone and Alice broke the back off the phone, taking the battery and card out before dumping the phone in the next public bin and keeping the other two for further and more thorough destruction knowing whoever Tom was working for would scour the streets for clues to lead them to Reddington's whereabouts.

She got in the drivers seat and looked over at her passenger.

"It's done then?" He asked.

"Toyed with and bleeding as he calls in reinforcement no doubt," Alice nodded.

"Alice," John tried. He says her name long and slow. Perhaps it would be a reprimand if he didn't know her any better.

"I couldn't help myself," she shrugged and turned over the key.

"Bit random and certainly kooky," John announced.

She genuinely laughed. She heard him crack his gruff exterior a bit too. She didn't have to answer, he already knew.

* * *

He leaned further into her couch and watched as she sat back in the single chair across from him.

"Why now?" She asked.

"I needed someone to call me with some information and knew it was safe here, for now," Red said quietly.

"Who called?"

"A friend," he told her.

"Would it be the friend I met three weeks ago?" she wondered.

He nodded and she rubbed at her scar. It was becoming quite a habit these last few weeks, he's noticed.

"Your card," she concluded.

He nodded.

"The man who hired Anslo?" She paused trying to think back to his name. "Finch?"

"Fitch," Red corrected. "No. He's for later."

"Who?" She asked.

"I don't think you want me to answer that," he said quickly. Too quickly.

She abandoned the chair and paced the floor. He abandoned the couch and stood in front of her, catching her arm. She left enough space between them to fit another person. She didn't feel the need to close in on him physically when she was conversationally.  
He turned and faced her. A frown marring his features.

"Who?" She asked again.

He finally lifted his eyes to meet hers. Suddenly she knew without him telling her. It wasn't pity in his eyes but more of an attempt to get her to understand why he is doing what he does. She doesn't know why he does it-protecting her from everything-but after he saved her from possible torture and most likely death from Anslo Garrick's hands, for having Mr Kaplan's first directive to protect her when he was being held at the decommissioned black site, she unconsciously trusted him. She tried to act normal around Tom but it became too fake for even her. When he went out of town for his interview, it was becoming the last straw. Now instead of talking to her about Nebraska, he just went and did it on his own terms. She knew Red's words had leaked into her subconscious and she began to distance herself from her husband. She began to work longer hours and avoid her home and visit Red's plethora of safe houses with Dembe instead.

"Tom?" She asked quietly.

"I only asked her to give him a message. No torture, no killing. I just want your house clean, Lizzie," Red tried.

"Who does he work for? Why," she trailed off.

"I don't know," he said. "Honestly, Lizzie. I have been trying for as long as you've been married to figure out who he works for. I had hoped it was Fitch. I'll see if it is Fitch after tonight."

Just then, a knock and the swift opening of the door brought them both to look at Dembe as he stood just on the threshold.

"They have been alerted to your presence," Dembe said.

"Thank you, Dembe," Red said.

The man nodded and closed the door again.

Red moves to follow and naturally Liz follows behind him to the door. He pauses before opening, turning back to face her.

Lizzie looked down at the floor and stared at their shoes.

"Am I just a pawn in this game?" She asked.

"You are in this game, but you are not a pawn. At least, not on my side," Red told her.

She looked at him as if she didn't believe a word that came out of his mouth. Only natural, he suspected.

"There are three ways to trade in this field, Lizzie. If anything, my life as the Concierge of Crime taught me that. One can trade in life, one can trade in secrets, and one can trade in intelligence. I have a vast amount of resources at my disposal yet two things evade me: who your husband actually works for and number one on the blacklist."

"I can help," she told him.

"No," Red said quickly. Too quickly. "I only want to lead you to the truth, Lizzie. I don't want you to place your life in danger to find out secrets I need in the plan I already have in motion."

"I can't pretend forever, Red," Lizzie says quietly. She looks at the floor before turning to him again.

He wants to move to Nebraska. He's supposedly at a job interview there now. I don't… It was awkward and forced and I don't know if he suspects…"

"I will always keep you safe, Lizzie," he tells her. His hand cups her cheek before pulling away. A ghost of a touch.

She obviously gets some kind of look in her eyes because he smiles sadly. Almost like he did in the Mercedes after Wujing.

"I'm a villain, Lizzie; everyone knows villains don't get happy endings," Red said.

He trailed the back of his fingers down her cheek, his thumb brushing against the corner of her lips as each finger trailed off.

She licked her lips, unconsciously, and looked up at him.

"You don't believe that," she told him. "If Alice can believe there is love in the world and she gets to be happy, you can, too."

"The odds of another criminal and copper is too good to be true, Lizzie."

As Liz stares at him, she realizes Alice and Red are different yet similar. He wasn't a psychopath despite Ressler and Cooper's statements otherwise. But they both believed the world was indifferent to them and that they somehow should wrong the people who have wronged them, consequences be damned. Not revenge, revenge was too quick. No. These two believed in the mind games, circumlocution; words were their weapons of choice when it came right down to it. Red liked to manipulate. Like he was perhaps doing now. But after being interrogated and hooked up to lie detectors one too many times, she found manipulation was an art form she hadn't truly appreciated until Red.

"You're back, right?" she asked. He told her he was on the couch but that was before he was found at her place by the surveillance team outside. They had mere seconds left, she supposed.

The corner of his mouth twitched as he smiled briefly. A nod once and green eyes met blue.

She kissed him. The corner of his lips, her fingers brushing against his cheek much like his did earlier. It was quick, brief, the slightest of touches but a kiss nonetheless.

"I'll see you soon," she told him.

"Tomorrow," he stuttered.

She watched as Dembe pulled the Mercedes to a stop and he slipped in before the van doors opened. He'd be gone to one of the safe houses for the night. But he had promised tomorrow. He's finished his revenge and will be bringing her the next name on the blacklist.

* * *

finished. if you are interested, alice will make a reappearance in Second Chances. the kind of sequel.


End file.
